The Idiot's Guide to Taming Ms Arrogant
by The Write Philosophia
Summary: [ Two-Shot ] She didn't just walk into his life. No, she weaved and pushed and shoved her way into his life, her strength equal to a thousand iron golems and her electrifying personality that shocked like redstone. And him? He just simply agreed to everything she said, and carried her back home when she was drunk. Who knew there was such a thing as a bad girl?


**This is only a two-shot, guise. I'll upload the other chapter when I finish it. And yo, this ain't a Youtuber fic, son. /whyamItryingtosoundgangsta**

**Oh, and it's inspired by _My Sassy Girl. _The Korean version, not the American one. The American one is nothing compared to the original Korean version.**

**|~*~| The Idiot's Guide to Taming Ms. Arrogant |~*~|**

In front of him was a building that would ultimately humiliate him and ruin his life, a mess of noise that people now considered "music" booming loudly from the building. He didn't ask to come here, he didn't want to come. Yet here he is, about to be shoved into the most uncomfortable situation he has ever been in. The menacing iron door in front of his guffawed at his anxiety and reluctance. Once he took a step into the building, he would be ultimately be doomed, being forced to take part in the modern, bizarre customs of his fellow peers.

This shall be the biggest test of his life.

Being dragged by his friend with an iron grip to a nightclub that had opened three miles away from his home is certainly a serious matter for the simple life of a miner who hasn't socialized very often - especially with the... female half of the Minecraftian population. He would've been comfortable in his house, nestled in his bed and reading that interesting book he never had time to read, or eat some snacks while watching reruns of Minecraft's Got Talent on television, or anything else besides this. Heck, if he could escape this horror, he was willing to even battle the Enderdragon - with a wooden shovel and a magma cube. But his friend had to convince him with those stupid puppy dog eyes and then take him to this stupid new nightclub they built. Their small town mainly consisted of farmers and not stupid nightclubs, so his friend was so excited and hyped up about it that he dragged his friend to its grand opening. After a bit of coaxing and begging, Xander finally convinced him to reluctantly agree.

And oh Notch, that the worst decision he has ever made.

"... Scaredy creeper," Xander said behind him. With those words, he shoved him inside, the booming sounds almost unbearable. He didn't like socializing. The human race sucked.

To put simply, he isn't a people person.

"You look like you're about to go to the Nether, Oliver! C'mon, live a little!"

"I think I'd like to live in the comfort of my home, thank you." He sighed. He really, really didn't want to come here.

It was sweaty, very sweaty. Who knew how massive the amount of bacteria was from people rubbing their sweat on one another?

Just... ew.

Oliver sighed, and sat in a stool at the bar. "Screw it, I'm just gonna stay here while you go flirt with girls."

At first, his comrade looked at him with an unamused face, but then he perked up for an odd, unknown reason. "Okay, then. Have fun!" he snickered, walking away to join the sweaty people in their massive ritual in which the sweaty males wink at the sweaty females in a sweaty rainforest.

Again, ew.

With a bored expression, he sat in the bar stool, pitying himself. Next time, he should really be more of a brick wall - no, obsidian wall - when a friend wanted him to do a favor.

Clink.

The person sitting in the stool beside him slammed her long, empty drink on the table. She sniffed noisily, and slowly began to cry. At first, it were a couple of tears, but soon she was sobbing an ocean that was big enough to fill the Void. Being the introvert he was, he decided to do the best thing he could do: ignore.

The girl noticed him, and her eyes widen in surprise. With unsteady aim, she managed to grab his shirt's collar, and yanked him toward her.

_Ignoring, ignoring, ignoring, ignoring, ignor -_

"Honey..." she said, her rancid breath filling his nostrils.

The problem was, they were complete strangers.

Never had he once sworn so quickly in his head. _Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit._

She covered her mouth, but she soon vomited on him before collapsing into the arms of unconsciousness. And now, a fresh layer of puke was spilled on his clothes. Just what he needed to cheer him up.

Yeah, this isn't one of his greatest moments.

The bartender, his attention attracted at the unconscious girl, demanded Oliver, "Go take your girlfriend home!"

"B-But she isn't -"

"Stop lying. She's your girlfriend. Why else would she call you 'honey?' This is a high-class nightclub, not a preschool where you can nap in."

He continued to glare and him until he reluctantly muttered a "yes sir." Oliver looked at the girl, dreaming about who-knows-what.

Why, why did he have to be in charge of the alcoholic?

Oh Notch, is his luck that bad?

And how and where is he going to take her?

His house would seem pretty creepy, and just leaving her here would be really harsh. So... uh... maybe a motel? Yeah, he would pay for her motel room, and quietly leave. Sounds like a plan.

He exhaled stressfully, and thought of those stupid movie clichés. Is he supposed to carry her like that or something? Is there a rule? A guide, perhaps?

Yeah, a guide for carrying drunk, sleeping alcoholic girls. Perfectly logical.

So he heaved her on his back, like a huge sleeping bag. He had always expected girls to be light. She seemed rather slim at first, but boy was he wrong. The thing on his back weighed at least 200 iron golems - holding an obsidian block each.

"Ugh!" He carefully heaved the girl on his back, glancing at his friend. Well, this is what you get when you listen to your jolly good friend.

Grunting, he held the girl on his back, and glanced at his friend who was flirting with a girl with messy orange hair. "Xander!" he shouted at the top of his lungs to attract his attention. Xander deafly continued to dance the latest trendy moves. "Xander!" he repeated, even louder than before. He continued to play around immaturely, this time doing a dance move similar to that of a flailing chicken.

Groaning in frustration, he gave up and managed to open the door after a bit of struggle. The girl, now beginning to drool, stirred a bit before snoring again. Her straight black hair fell in front of his face annoyingly, partially blocking his vision.

In desperation, he cried, "Wah! W-Wake up! Please?" With each word, he shook her sleeping figure, but she still continued to dream about ponies.

Pitying himself, he grunted once again and staggered away from the nightclub, struggling to keep his balance while simultaneously carrying the girl.

"Why, just why did it have to be me?" Oliver whined as he vainly searched for a motel.

And like a _deus ex machina_, he found one rather quickly. It was a rather rundown motel, only two letters lit in its sign. The empty parking lot was sprinkled with the plastic bags, paper cups, and the occasional rat.

He wasn't sure if they were dead because they were killed, or that the motel was so dirty that the air was toxic.

Sighing, he thought, It'll have to do.

Feeling something wet and slimy on his left ear and still smelling the rancid stench of vomit, he went into the motel. With practically a rainbow dyed into her hair, a girl with piercings bobbed her head to the beat of the music blasting through her earphones. As he surveyed the hotel lobby, he came to the conclusion that they attempted to give off a "fancy, classy" look with medieval-looking paintings hanging on the walls and a sparkly chandelier attached to the roof, but ultimately failed, some of the paint severely chipping off the walls and several stains adorning the carpet. The chance that someone was murdered here was awfully probable.

"Um... excuse me."

The girl noticed him and took off her earpiece. She shined a genuine, welcoming smile that only a truly friendly person can pull off. "Hello, sir! Welcome to the Philosopher's Motel, where all of our employees have the right philosophy to treat you with courtesy and royalty."

He had expected the girl to be more snotty and rude, but was slightly surprised at her positive attitude. Well, never judge a book by its cover, right? However, the book on his back was already read for five chapters, and definitely is not on the best-selling list.

But he couldn't ignore the girl's huge smirk at his "backpack" he was carrying.

"Um... I, uh, need a room."

"Oh, looks like you two had a crazy night, huh?"

"I-It's not like that at all! I d-don't even know this girl!"

"Sure you don't," she teasingly remarked. "4 iron ingots, please." He dug into his pocket with a bit of struggle and passed the money to her. In exchange for the money, she plucked a key from the wall and passed it to him. "Here ya go."

"Thank you," he said, beginning his long journey of heaving the girl up the stairs. As if carrying a girl who was heavier than he thought, now he had to climb up the stairs? Oliver looked at the number engraved on the key in his hand.

He was never good at physical education.

With each step he took, his mental complaining increased.

_Oh gosh, what did I do to deserve this?_

Step.

_I was an innocent bystander!_

Step.

_For making my friend happy, I get to carry a drunk girl on my back with the awkwardness of a thousand miserable seventh grade students._

Step.

_Why? Just why?_

Step.

_Why do all the bad things happen to me?_

The last step. He was finally on the second floor. Carefully inserting the key, he quickly flew the door open and practically threw the girl off his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Still snoring, she was sleeping like a bear. Dashing into the bathroom, he desperately washed out the puke on his clothes, all the while chanting mentally to himself _ewewewewewewewew. _He was pretty sure he used the entire bottle of soap by the time he could no longer detect the slightest scent of its rancid stench.

He sighed in relief as he dried the counter of the sink. The worst part was over. He could go home now, and pretend nothing ever happened. He wanted to pretend nothing ever happened. Of course, his friend would ask him what had happened. He would just tell him... that he got bored and left? No, that'd be kinda harsh. Perhaps he felt kind of sick?

Now clean, he left the bathroom, only to be struck by the heel of a shoe.

And it stung. A lot. He looked at the person who had attacked him. The girl was now wide awake, extreme anger and confusion expressed on her face. In her hand, she tightly held her shoe. Immediately, she began shooting questions from her machine gun mouth.

"Who are you?! Where am I?! Did you rape me?! If you did, I'm calling the police!"

"I-I didn't! I swear to Notch!" He held his hands up.

She was about to yell something again when she suddenly put her left hand over her mouth. Quickly dashing into the bathroom and slamming the door, uncomfortable noises were heard from the small room. Hearing those noises made him want to vomit as well, but he shut his eyes and attempted to block out the noise.

_"__I'm useless, but not for long, 'cause the future is coming on~ __"_

Oliver pulled out his phone from his pocket and pressed a button. "Hello?"

"Dude, where are you?" the voice of Xander inquired.

"Oh, uh..." He looked at the shut door of the bathroom, disgusting sounds of vomiting continue to flood the air. "I felt a bit sick, so I went home."

"Liar. I'm in front of your house."

... Crap. "Um... it's... uh..."

"Oh, I understand." Huh? He really...? Well, that's good.

"Really? Thanks."

"I understand com-plete-ly~ Never knew you had it in you, Oliver, getting laid after -"

"NO. NETHER NO. IT ISN'T LIKE THAT AT ALL." He exhaled, then lowered his voice. "Remember that drunk girl?"

"Yeah. Ohhhh, with her?"

"No. She, uh, got drunk. The stupid bartender thought I came with her, so he yelled at me to take her back to her house. So I thought it'd be at least less awkward to take her to a motel and leave. But then she woke up in the motel room and practically tried to kill me with a shoe. And now, as we speak, she's throwing up in the toilet."

"... She's totally your type."

"No. The last thing I need is to take responsibility of a drunk girl whom I don't even know to call me her boyfriend before throwing up on me, yet that's what I got because I listened to you and went to that Ender Club or whatever. Do you think I'm happy to be here, listening to her throw up in a toilet as we speak?"

"Hey, I saw her at the club too, and I have to say if she isn't drinking, she's pretty hot, so why don't you take a chance?"

"I think I'll pass, thanks."

"Tsk tsk, what a sad life. You'll always be Forever Alone, ya know that? ...Hello? Hello?"

He hung up, annoyed to death. Suddenly, he noticed the noises from the bathroom abruptly stopped. The door gently opened, and out came the sick-looking girl. She seemed rather dizzy, but her balance was stable. She looked at him with the biggest eyes he's ever seen. He never thought the size of her angry deer eyes was even physically possible. They even seemed hypnotizing.

But... in some way, they seemed sad, as if they had often been used to cry.

"What did you do to me?!" she shouted. He had expected to come up with his alibi slowly and wisely, but instead they messily and quickly spilled out of his mouth all at once with the speed of a cave spider.

"Okay, don't kill me. My friend convinced me to go to this nightclub, and while he was having fun I just sat in the bar. And then, uh, you drank a bit too much and threw, uh, threw up on me, so, uh, the bartender thought you were..." He thought he should leave out the part with the "girlfriend boyfriend." Yeah, that's a wise decision. "... were related to me, so he yelled at me to bring you back home. But I had to carry you, uh, the entire time to the motel. Yeah, that's it. I didn't do anything. For the past, um, fifteen minutes, I was washing out the puke on my shirt. Please don't kill me."

With suspicious eyes, she looked at him from head to toe. After suspiciously glaring at him for a while, she stopped giving him the evil eye and gained a calm composure.

"Hyori. The name's Hyori."

He was puzzled at the girl's surprising introduction, but decided he would go along as if nothing had happened. "Uh, nice to meet you, Hyare-e."

"No, Hyori."

"Hyahree."

"Ugh, retard. HYOR-EE."

"Hyori."

"That's right. Good boy." She suddenly winced and placed her hand on her head. "Ugh... my head..."

He awkwardly grabbed the doorknob. "Well, uh, I'll just get going now."

"Whatever," she said, like an aggravated teenager. He quickly left the motel room, and prepared himself to be interrogated by his friend later.

And that was how Deer Eyes strutted into his life.

* * *

Days passed as usual. It was a week since he had seen Hyori. And thank goodness. If she appeared again, who knows what would happen?

It was his break after mining for a few hours, and he was comfortably reading a book in the entrance of the cave. The sounds of pickaxes smashing into stone resonated through the cave system. He opened his book to chapter two.

_Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or  
_

"Oh, what's this? A book? Wow, that's pretty nerdy. Lemme see that."

Oh no...

The book in his hands was abruptly ripped out of his hands.

"What type of lame book is this?" a hearty, robust person laughed. Of course, it was his co-worker, who constantly left the extra, difficult labor for him. Instead of protesting against it, he quietly accepted it and went on with his life. He didn't want to cause any trouble nor make any enemies, so the wisest thing to do was keep quiet. That's what he's always done.

"Pfft... what is this? One of those cheap romantic novels? Wow, that's some gay stuff."

But, for some reason, today, something inside of him clicked, instead of staying in his passive mode. As if he had more confidence. Without even thinking, he just immediately shot out the words. "It's not a romance novel. It's a classic."

He remained silent. He spoke too much.

"Retard." With that word, he struck him with the paperback book.

The other side was silent.

"Retard." Another hit.

He accepted it silently.

"Re-"

A convicting index finger was pointed at the strongly built superior.

"You. You're fired."

Both turned to see a tall woman wearing an orange helmet, deer eyes filled with disgust. "Violence against co-workers is unacceptable."

"W-Who are you?"

She confidently pulled out an ID card with the words TEMPORARY OWNER in bold. "I'm from the Aether. My uncle is out of town in the Nether to expand his business to mine Nether Quartz, so I'm in charge for two weeks."

Suddenly, his co-worker wasn't as superior as an enderdragon anymore and said pleadingly, "P-Please... please don't -"

"If you harass him, you probably harass others. You're fired."

With a sigh, he reluctantly left the site, leaving his iron pickaxe in the cave entrance.

The woman picked up the pickaxe and noticed Oliver who had lost his tongue to an enderman.

"Uh... thank... how... are... uh..."

"Don't think I'm letting you off easily. I'm you're boss, and you're still a worker. Your break is over already. Get back to mining."

With proud grin, she took arrogant steps into the cave to supervise other miners, her deer eyes disappearing from sight.

The rest of the hours were filled with the repetitive sound of pickaxes, smelly sweat, and the occasional unique shouting and nagging combination that can only be perfected by a vicious, aggressive female boss.

After he was finished with his job, covered in redstone dust, he changed out of his mundane uniform into a casual t-shirt and shorts. Fatigued from the day's work, he simply turned around and was struck with the oddest sight he had ever seen.

A distressed Hyori was sitting on a bench, her hands over her stuffy, red deer eyes.

Bipolar. The perfect definition of Hyori. At day, a crazy but justified boss. At night, a distressed but gentle maiden.

His theory was proven true: that girl was crazy.

But he didn't like seeing people cry, whether it was someone who he recently met, vomited on his shirt, or his own boss.

Quietly and carefully approaching her, step by step, Oliver was quietly standing next to her awkwardly, rehearsing a mental script he had drawn in his mind. He'd just cheer her up.

But he wasn't a people person. Oh well.

"Uh... hi."

"Leave me alone."

Fail.

"Um... are you okay?"

"I hate you."

"I'll take that as a no."

"I hate everyone."

"..."

"Guys are so rude and mean. They never consider girls' feelings."

"Uh... n-not all guys are mean?"

"Yeah, except for you. You're just stupid."

... Well, it's better than mean, I guess. "Um... thanks?"

"What's wrong with me? A-Am I ugly? Or am I too clingy? Or maybe too nice?"

"Uh..." _Yeah, she's _really _nice. The nicest person on the planet. _"You're nice, I guess."

"I sense your sarcasm. Now go away."

What would one of those clichéd guys in romantic comedies say? "Uhh... I-I won't?" He sat down next to her on the bench. In response, she scooted away from him to the left side of the bench.

"... Did you, uh, recently have a break-up or something?"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK HAPPENED TO ME, YOU IDIOT?" she screeched at him, her angered eyes the size of silver plates. At least indignation was better than sorrow, right?

With a groan of annoyance, she buried her face in her hands. Awkward silence reigned once again as king. The peasant under its control quietly tapped his fingers on the bench, pondering on what to do next without getting himself screamed at. He swore some of her saliva flew to his face. "Your boyfriend's a... a..."

"A jerk? A dick? A back-stabbing bastard with no life?"

"Uh, yeah, that. Y-You... uh... you're worth more than that. I-If you ever meet that guy a-again, then you should be, uh, should show him that you're okay without him. Yeah. Yeah, show him."

Silence. He quickly shut his eyes before he would be yelled at.

"... Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right." He opened his eyes to see her flattening out her messy hair, making sure it was neat and tidy. A smile appeared on her face.

However... it was a bit unnatural.

And it freaked him out. A lot. To him, who was as scared and shy as a small cat, the smile appeared normal, but if taken in with her usual negative personality, it was like Jeff the Killer and Smile Dog had a human daughter.

Yeah, it frightened him a lot.

"Are you hungry? I want to eat." she smiled with gritted teeth. It seemed that even his simple presence annoyed her.

Uh... he should nod. Yeah, nod his head with a smile so he won't die. That would be the best decision.

"Sure, I guess."

She stood up and stretched a bit before a sound of a wrapper caught her attention. Hyori turned at the stranger on the phone, the wrapper of a manufactured junk food on the ground next to him. She turned back to Oliver.

"Excuse me for a moment, please." She stomped over to the stranger and tapped her foot impatiently. The stranger continued to blab into his phone.

"Uh... what are you -"

"Sir!" she screeched. The stranger looked at her in shock and covered one hand on his phone.

"Y-Yeah?"

"Pick that up! Don't be littering around here! It's bad for the environment! Pick it up now!"

He... he doesn't even work here, yet she's bossing him around?

The man reluctantly picked up the wrapper and threw it in the trash can while Oliver was convinced she had a mental problem.

* * *

_Hunt or be hunted. Eat or be eaten. Rules like those are meant to be followed when you were her. She was from a much simpler time, but now her destiny had called her here, the empty warehouse. One thousand years ago, this was where her house was, but now since she had jumped through time to save him, it was now a warehouse filled with bloodthirsty warriors armed with the futuristic weapons of their time. She clutched her weapon until her knuckles were white. "It's over today. All this will -_

"Uh... why is she always from the future? You wrote about a girl from the future for like one hundred manuscripts."

"Shut up and keep reading."

"But I already read like ten of your manuscripts! If you keep making me read them, you're killing me!"

She sneered. "Wow, you're lame. Okay, then, if you dislike it so much, read the menu." And so he did.

The waitress soon arrived at their shared table. "May I take your order?" she smiled kindly.

"Uh... I'm not that hungry, so apple juice ple -"

Hyori scoffed. "This is a restaurant, not a kindergarten daycare." She reciprocated the smile to the waitress. "One coffee, please. Enderweiser for me."

The waitress, confused at the girl's aggressive behavior, quickly nodded and scurried away.

"Why are you making me read this?" Oliver complained, holding up several stapled stacks of paper.

"Because I need a beta-reader. And you're the unlucky beta-reader who's going to read it."

Perfect. Soon, the waitress returned with a bitter-smelling cup of coffee and a bottle of surrounded by two small glasses. A sudden thought knocked him in the head painfully, sending him into a panic. He recalled the last time she drank alcohol which resulted in him carrying her to a motel.

_Oh crap, I'm doomed._

But surprisingly, proving his inference wrong, she didn't drink the beer. Huh, if she was more calm, then she'd probably be his type.

Too bad she isn't.

"What are you doing?" she said, oddly glaring at him with the strength of twenty thousand Herobrines.

"Uh... e-excuse me?"

"Don't stutter!" she nagged loudly, drawing the attention of several customers. He vainly tried his genuine best to ignore them.

"Okay then," he carefully chose his words. "So what, uh, did you want me to do?"

"Wanna die?" she threatened. "Read the next manuscript."

And there he was, being forced to read several manuscripts, varying from a time-traveling girl moving in next to a friendly guy to a time-traveling female bounty hunter who is told to kill her own lover.

After about a half hour, he set down the manuscript, unable to read through anymore cliches. "Y'know, a lot of young teenagers these days love romantic novels where there's drama and stuff. You should write that type of stuff so you can attract readers," he suggested. "Kinda like that 'Zombeo and Enderlet' story. Y'know, the one where they both kill themselves in the end?"

"That ending sucks," she objected. "I gotta change it."

"B-But, it's a classic! You can't change a -"

"I can, and I will. Hm..." She placed her index finger on her chin with a thoughtful hum. "How about instead, the guy suddenly gets into a car accident, which makes him into a coma. Now, he doesn't know whether he's dreaming or not anymore, so each time he dreams she dies, and he's not sure if it's real or not, so he repeats the cycle over and over and over again."

"W-Wait, how is she gunna, y'know, die?"

"Uh... I dunno." She shrugged. "Poison, car accident, a pole piercing through her body, maybe a bomb attached to her back. Oh! And she'll be dismembered by a crazy serial killer, too. Oh! I got it! She'll be dismembered by a serial killer who's also a zookeeper, so he'll feed her remains to the lions. Oh gosh, that's perfect! I wonder why that old author guy didn't include that alternate ending. That would've been awesome!"

He looked at her in horror as he mentally prayed to Notch that those things wouldn't befall him.

However, instead of continuing her new alternate ending, she was listening intently at something. He realised she was eavesdropping on a conversation from the table next to them.

"Hey, Fluffykins, do you want some food?"

Bark!

"Aw~ You're so cute~ Here you go!" The man threw a piece of his pumpkin pie on the floor gently. The dog came over and sniffed in curiously.

She stood up, the chair shrieking against the floor cowardly. Her footsteps stomped toward the man as she tapped her foot impatiently with that signature, piercing glare. The man looked curiously at her.

"You know that pumpkin pie can kill your dog! You know how bad that is for him? He can die, and you just feed him pumpkin pie? Oh, you screwed up mo -"

"Yeesh, okay, okay." He picked up the piece of pumpkin pie reluctantly.

She sat back down and, fueled by her anger, she began pouring a shot into her cup. She swallowed it in one gulp and winced before exhaling. Oliver stared at her, unsure of what to do. After she swallowed a shot for the third time, he awkwardly poured her drinks for her. As she gulped down her seventh shot, she stared at the small glass cup in her hand.

"Uh... um... so how's, uh, how do you like the weather?"

"I-It's good..." And then, from powerful, sassy Hyori, she became sorrowful, angsty Hyori. For some reason, watching a girl cry made him sad, even if it was a girl who had tortured him non-stop. She immediately broke into tears once again, earning a few glares shot at him by other customers who convicted him of making her shed tears. He disliked the stares at his back, so he tried his best to cheer her up.

"W-What did the... uh, how did the hipster burn his tongue?"

She continued to sob loudly.

"He, he took a sip of his tea before it was cool. Get it? Because, uh, he's a hipster, and um..."

With her grieving deer eyes, she cried, "My boyfriend broke up with me over a sandwich!" With that, her head fell on the table, unconscious.

A few more stares were directed at him as a thousand thoughts buzzed through his head quickly.

_S-Sandwich?_

_What am I supposed to do now?_

_P-Please stop staring at me!_

_Why does this always happen to me?_

_Wah... w-wake up! Wake up, please!_

_Notch, I shouldn't have let her drink that alcohol._

With his index finger, he gently poked her head. Her hypnotizing eyes remained closed.

"Uh... Hyori? Wake up," he whispered.

Another gentle poke. She began to drool.

"Hyori, please wake up. I-I don't want to carry you! Please don't do this to me!" She continued to sleep, her head resting on the table.

It looked like he was going to have to carry her once again. At least he didn't eat a lot, or else he'd puke while heaving her everywhere.

This is going to be one long night.

* * *

**Note: The little excerpt from the book Oliver was reading was Tom Sawyer, but the one Hyori wrote was my own writing, since it's crap compared to Mark Twain's writing, and her writing is crap so... .3.  
**

***bows* Annyeong, Philosophia speaking~!**

_**To him, who was as scared and shy as a small cat, the smile was a lot like if Jeff the Killer and Smile Dog had a son.**_

**SHUT UP, OLIVER, HE'S BEAUTIFUL. BEAUTIFUL, I SAY.**

**Philosopher's Motel. Yeah, I made a pun on my own username. Feel free to flame me. owo**

**Yeah, but even though I'm writing this, I'm not a regular romance writer girl. Yeah, just try my other fanfic. IT'S LIKE, A DEATH FEST. AND THEY'RE NOT EVEN IN THE SURVIVAL GAMES, MAN. EVERYONE. IS. FREAKING. DEAD. ****AND NOW I'M WRITING HAPPY CHEERY STUFF LIKE WTF.**

_**(ohgoshmycharacterswillhatemeifthey'rereal)**_

**I wrote this to show people the fact that not all girls are super-sweet-adorable-kind-caring-shy girls. There are really shy girls, there are super sweet girls, and yes, there are very innocent girls. But there's no such thing as a perfectly nice and angelic and saint-like girl. Like, unless the girl is so shy that she won't talk to **_**anyone **_**and is easily scared of a simple car passing by, being shy is not a really flaw. It's more like a trait.  
**

**AND LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT IS PRACTICALLY NONEXISTANT. DO YOU SEE HOW MUCH THIS GUY DISLIKES THIS GIRL?**

**So, driven by my cliche-crushing nature, Hyori was born.**

_**Fun Fact: **_**Hyori's name is a reference to this Korean singer called Lee Hyori, who sang this song called "Bad Girl" which is what I got my inspiration from so yeah :P I thought it would be nice to name her after the singer so...  
**

**Uh, expect long A/Ns from me all the time ._.**

_**_*Philosophia*_**__**  
**_


End file.
